


Significance

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Real Person Fiction, Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10677144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: The event that signifies the end of the season: Nina drinks too much.





	Significance

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Every story I wrote about NIan was written between December 2010 and January 2014. These are old and hold no bearing on how things actually were, are, or will be. I know Ian is married now, and I am not trying to be disrespectful. For all these years, I kept these stories locked on LiveJournal and protected, and it just occurred to me that these are just stories, and these are as much characters as any of the other fanfic I've ever written. It also represents a lot of my creative time and energy and I'm proud of these stories. So I'm posting them now, with the intent that others might enjoy them.

The event that signifies the end of the season: Ian stops shaving.  
  
Nina looks over at him during the wrap party, while he's across the room laughing and drinking with Steven and Zach, convinced she'll have whisker burn by morning. Of course, by the end of next week, it'll be soft and feel great against her skin and she'll love kissing him again.   
  
Technically, she always loves kissing him, but what will be nice is to have the  _energy_  to kiss him. To have time to go to the gym, and call her mom, and go out to dinner on a real date, and then come home and make love like regular people.  
  
(Just have time to breathe, in sync, together, while orgasming, that would be  _so_  great.)  
  
She sips her margarita, listening while Candice entertains the girls with some bargain shopping tale, and Ian turns his head, his eye catching hers. He flashes her a smile and raises his glass to her.  
  
She loves him so much, she can't believe this is their third one of these, or that they've been together for two years. Despite the weariness that always creeps up on them by the end of the season, she still wakes up every day feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Work, personal life, everything is  _so_  good. It's usually too much for her to even fully comprehend, so she just takes those moments of reality when they strike, and treasures them. She smiles at her boyfriend, raises her glass back to him, and sends a little  _thank you_  out to the universe.   
  
Whoever aligned their stars certainly deserves some kind of baked good, and she'd make it herself if she knew where to send it.  
  
  
  
  
  
The event that signifies the end of the season: Nina drinks too much.  
  
She is pretty much the cutest drunk Ian's ever seen, however, so as she's hanging on his neck like a large necklace and swaying with him to some old song Matt selected for the dance portion of the evening, he just smiles at her and her nonsensical babble.  
  
Tonight it's something about making a cake for someone, but he can't figure out who she's talking about, so he just keeps patting her bottom and nodding his head.  
  
"I love you,  _so much_ ," she says dramatically as he's loading her into the car once the party's over.   
  
"I know, baby," he responds, brushing her hair off her cheek. "I love you, too," he murmurs, rubbing his lips across hers.  
  
He's had a few too, though it doesn't go to his head the way it does hers. All the same as the driver takes them to Ian's house, Nina is rather amorous, her hand cupping his crotch while her teeth nibble at his earlobe. Frank, a driver they've used lots of times, pretends not to notice, and Ian plans to slip him a nice tip so as to keep stuff like this private. She'll want to die of embarrassment tomorrow when he tells her what she did, but he's not getting too excited by her moves because he already knows how this night will end.  
  
(It will be in his bed, but not the way one might hope.)  
  
She starts laughing uncontrollably, over what, he has no idea, as they climb out of the car and make their way into the house. He eventually has to swing her up into his arms because she's doubled over and can't manage to walk over the threshold. When he gets her into the bedroom, they end up falling into a heap on his bed, and her giggles fade away. Her arms and legs wind around him and her hips lift up against his, but when she licks his face,  _he_  starts laughing and pushes away from her. "You know I never wanted to go to bed with Uggie, right?"  
  
"I can't help it!" she exclaims loudly. "You're so pretty, I want to gobble you up." When she grabs at his face again, he manages to disentangle himself before she can get her tongue against his cheek. He leaves her on the bed, and she slurs, "You know you can't resist me, Smolderholder!" as he's making his way into the hall. She calls out, in an extremely concerned-sounding voice, "Where are you going?" It makes him shake his head and smile, because she's only needy and whiny when she's drunk.  
  
"I have to check on the kittens!" he reminds her.  
  
He goes into the spare bedroom, spying his new wards who are running and jumping on each other like one of those YouTube videos. He makes sure they've eaten and pooped in the right place. As he cleaning up a couple accidents, he can hear Nina talking to herself, rambling on some more about a cake, or  _maybe a rhubarb pie!_  but then she falls silent. After he washes his hands, he cuddles with the kittens, giving them a little love before he finally goes back to his room.  
  
Sure enough, she's half-undressed and passed out cold, spread eagle on the bed. This is the thing people don't get, the ones who never commit, who constantly look for something new and exciting. He loves that he knows exactly what Nina will do on the day of the wrap party.   
  
He loves that she trusts him so much that she lets herself go, that she knows he'll always take care of her.  
  
So he does; he tucks her into the bed, and places a glass of water and two Advil on the bedside table. She'll have a heck of a headache in the morning, and that's the first thing she'll want when she comes to.   
  
(He'll tell her the embarrassing stuff once she's not groaning in pain anymore.)  
  
  
  
  
  
The words "Oh, God," wake him from a sound sleep and then she's bolting from the bed to make it to the bathroom before she starts throwing up. Rolling over, he can see her from where he's laying, hugging the toilet seat like she had him a few hours earlier.  
  
He can't help it, he starts laughing.  
  
"Shut up!" she manages to gurgle before another wave hits her.   
  
Reaching for the bedside lamp, he checks the clock—which reads 3:08am—and then he gets out of bed and pads in after her, kneeling down beside her to pull her hair back. It's too late, though, as there is some puke residue in the long brown tresses. "Well, you got most of it in the can," he says softly. "My carpet thanks you."  
  
She elbows him, grousing wordlessly, but then she ends up leaning against him, because, well, she's sick, and he is offering comfort even if he's teasing her a bit. "Too much alcohol, not enough food," he muses. The contents of the toilet are much more liquidy than chunky. He reaches over and flushes the toilet.  
  
"I didn't mean to drink so much," she moans, shaking her head morosely.  
  
"I'll say, you've rarely thrown up in all the time I've known you. That's the problem with too many fruity drinks, you forget how much you're consuming."  
  
She wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her button-down blouse that is hanging half-open. "That's the problem with an open bar," she mutters. Looking down at her torso for a moment, she quietly examines her clothing before she looks up at him. "You couldn't be bothered to finish undressing me?"  
  
"Nope," he says, "And I took a picture of you and uploaded it to Twitter."  
  
"Oh, my God! Ian!" she cries, punching his chest with her other hand. When she realizes he's kidding, she punches him again, harder. "That's not funny," she says, and then her head is back against his shoulder, her eyes tearing up a bit.  
  
He can feel more laughter just itching to get out, but he controls himself. He rubs her back. "How about we take a shower? I'll wash your hair, how 'bout that? Unless you think you're gonna toss up some more?"  
  
She sits very still for almost a minute and then nods her head. "I think I'm finished," she says. He helps her get to her feet. "Let me brush my teeth first," she says, opening the medicine cabinet.   
  
While she does that, Ian pulls some clean towels from the cupboard at the other end of the bathroom and lowers the toilet seat lid to set them down. He turns the shower on, hot the way she likes it, and then starts undressing her. He stands behind her as she's cleaning her teeth, unbuttoning the last two snaps of the shirt before easing it off her shoulders. As she leans forward to spit and rinse once more, he slides his hands under the elastic waist of her short skirt and pushes it and her underwear down her legs.  
  
Her eyes meet his in the mirror as she sets her toothbrush down on the counter and he unhooks the front center clasp of her bra, dragging his palms over her nipples as he removes it. She takes a little breath that spikes his temperature a bit, so he leans down and drags his teeth over the sensitive tendon at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  
  
She moans a little, her hand lifting up to cup the back of his head. "How can you make puke in my hair sexy?" she asks, the wonder in her voice enough to ratchet his arousal up a little more.  
  
"You groped me in the car on the way home; I've been saving it up."  
  
Her cheeks flame and she shakes her head. "I'm never drinking again!" she declares, and he turns her around so they're face to face.  
  
"Famous last words," he teases as she leans into him and kisses his chin gently.  
  
She pushes his boxer briefs down, because while he hadn't undressed her, he had undressed himself, leaving only his underwear behind. When they're both naked, they climb in the shower, and he stands behind her as he soaps her up. He massages her scalp, which causes her to emit more lovely sounds that make him hard. When he turns her around so he can rinse her hair, her hands are already wrapping around him, and sliding up and down, completely destroying his concentration.  
  
He can't help himself, ever the gentleman he offers, "We don't need to do anything, you know. You don't feel good." Although it sounds pretty half-hearted even to his own ears, especially when her left palm squeezes the head of his cock perfectly just as he says  _good_  and it becomes a two-syllable word. "Fuck," he breathes when her other hand slips further down to caress him and his hips jump in response.  
  
She smiles, and then stretches up on her tiptoes to snag his bottom lip between her teeth. "Like I'm going to leave you hanging, twice in one night, after you just washed my hair? My momma raised me better than that."  
  
She twists her wrist and he sees stars, muttering against her lips, "She sure as hell did," and then he's coming, her hand working him all the way through it until he's so sensitive he begs her to stop. He rests a forearm against the tiled wall because his legs are trembling with the sudden onslaught of his orgasm. "Whew," he breathes. It's been a while, so he's not exactly Mr. Stamina right now, but Nina doesn't seem to mind because the smile she wears transforms into a shit-eating grin.  
  
(She's always been pleased that he has a relatively short fuse when it comes to her.)  
  
They wash up, rinse off, and get out of the shower. Nina combs her hair out, towel drying it, and then they get back into bed. She cuddles up to him, burying her face against his chest. "You'll owe me one, tomorrow," she murmurs, already falling back to sleep.  
  
He knows just what his brother would say about this situation.  _You and your charmed life._  Only he could have a girl puking in his bathroom at three in the morning and then by four be orgasm-pliant, snuggled in bed with her.  
  
(This is the night that signifies what a lucky bastard Ian Somerhalder really is.)  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Nina doesn't even bother to get dressed. Her boyfriend feeds her Advil and water, dry toast and saltines, and then runs to the store to get Gatorade sometime around noon.  
  
After she's ingested that and declares that she's feeling better, he tackles her on the living room sofa and gives her two mind-blowing orgasms one right after the other. Later, after they've moved the festivities back to the bedroom, they do their favorite breathing-in-tandem thing that makes their climaxes happen at the same time, and she falls into a sex coma.   
  
When she awakes, it's early evening, and there's some delicious, tangy smell coming from the kitchen; it causes her stomach to growl loudly. She finds one of Ian's shirts and goes to investigate, only to find he's whipped up some kind of homemade sushi.  
  
They sit on the floor, eating their fill, and then she helps him with the kittens, letting them out to roam the whole house; it is the human's job to keep tabs on all five of the little creatures so there aren't surprises where they shouldn't be.  
  
It's somewhere around ten o'clock when Ian's laying on the floor with two kittens wrestling on his stomach and Nina feels a swell of love like nothing she's ever felt before.  
  
(This is the night that signifies Nina Dobrev is ruined for all other men.)  
  
(No, seriously.)

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/TVD/tumblr_lz46mjsSTf1r2aleco1_500.png.html)
> 
> Because they were so beautiful.


End file.
